White Light
by aptasi
Summary: Any trial ends with a judgment. Carmen knew it was wrong.


Summary: Any trial ends with a judgment. Carmen knew it was wrong.

Disclaimer: I'm just a fanfiction writer. All hail the rightful owners.

Story Info: Based on the Vienna Teng song _White Light

* * *

_

"I broke you out of jail." Carmen told Traitor and Archie, along with other assorted henchmen. "So you have your freedom and your money. As agreed. Good evening, gentlemen." Her mannerisms were ice and her face shone green. It clashed brashly with the crimson trench.

The room was silent.

The henchmen hadn't bargained for that. Instinctively, they receded into the background, unsure if they expected Carmen to shield them from the danger, or to cause it. A wise man feared Traitor of course, but a wiser one was wary of Carmen's current mood.

Completely… dead… silent.

Except for one fool, ranting on and on, like a particularly garrulous case of the runs.

"That was such a good heist, boss." The imbecile recited, and the unchaperoned sound reverberated off the walls. "They didn't even see it coming."

Everyone else caught the warning look in Carmen's eyes. The idiot didn't.

"You're some actress, boss!" He complemented imprudently. "You didn't even pull off those handcuffs when that girl fell."

A few men swallowed. True, half of them had expected Carmen to break character when the detective slipped, but calling attention to that was outright dangerous.

"And did you see the look on those detectives' faces." He shouted raucously, in an uproar of unwelcome laughter.

"Silence!" Carmen snapped harshly and slapped him across the jaw.

They all stared. Someone whistled low under his breath. These henchmen might have been a few lines short of a script in terms of cognizance, but it didn't take Albert Einstein to know that remark was going to touch a nerve. Considering Carmen's ironclad temperament, it would have to for her to loose her temper. Most of the henchmen had never seen Carmen get angry.

Intuitive physics: the more pressure it takes to break something, the greater the explosion when the container bursts.

"I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you." Carmen stammered. "I shouldn't… have…"

No one breathed.

Their boss swayed as if she'd been struck. "This was a mistake." The thief ran from the room.

But R.B. Traitor was hot on her heels.

"It was all a mistake." Carmen grated, running faster. "I should never have… this compulsion… this cursed addiction."

He chuckled. "You only think that because you lost." For a man of his stature, he moved remarkably well.

The heels clicked in a staccato rumble. "Winning isn't everything."

"It's the only thing."

Carmen slowed her step, shaking on her feet. "Perhaps to you, Traitor."

"Do you think spitting out my name will make it any less applicable to you?"

"No." Carmen remarked. "But it does help get the taste out of my mouth."

"So might vomiting." He suggested mildly, amused at how his opponent was reacting.

Her eyes fluttered. "Don't tempt me."

"Do you insist on persisting with this foolishness?"

"I don't want to talk to you, Traitor." Carmen passed through the door to her bedroom.

The heavyset man followed her through the portal. "Shouldn't you have thought of this earlier?"

"I'll feel as I wish." The defensive nature of the tone belied the raging self-loathing underneath. The helplessness was the worst, she thought. Carmen would take any action rather than face her own unaided nature.

Traitor shrugged. "You are useless. What a silly little retroactive temper tantrum."

The dam broke. "Get out of my room!"

Suddenly, in a flurry of aggressive movement, Traitor checked her hip. Carmen felt hands rustling in her pockets and was spun cruelly around into his arms. It was not a chokehold, unless he tightened his bicep. That grip was everything but, though. Carmen felt the icy, contemptible metal against her forehead. How utterly predictable, Carmen thought, that she would end up with her own gun shoved to her head. Generic traditional irony, who wrote this farce?

"Hypocrite." Traitor said mildly. The cold metal moved, in a gentle caress against her temple. "Hypocrite," he crooned, shifting his weight in a way that almost rocked her. "Hypocrite."

She didn't bother denying it. The psychopath tightened his grip and felt the fight go out of her. That wasn't any good. No sport in splintering a broken woman. Strength was Carmen's appeal after all… that she could nail her shattered soul together and shout back with some spirit. Traitor disliked an easy test almost as much as she did. That wasn't why he was here, and both of them knew that.

"Though I wonder." The deep voice boomed, as his huge fingers clutched the tiny handgun. "Whether you can even aim it. Could you hit a target five feet away?"

"That's not its purpose." Her suddenly numb voice answered.

"Ah then…" He mocked her. "For a… more personal assailant perhaps."

The acerbic voice responded. "I've faced that threat."

"Oh?" He smiled sinisterly over her shoulder. There it was again, that Carmen Sandiego fire.

"With this gun in my pocket the whole time. I could have drawn it any time I deemed my worth that high."

He chuckled. "You are ice incarnate…"

"Cut the mockery, Traitor. You and I both know blasted well who the gun is for."

"Ah, very true that. You know most people with your particular malady would just scratch up their arms, instead of slicing their heart."

The thin thief tried to pry him off. "What are you on about this time?"

"Your coping mechanism, Carmen. " Traitor expounded. "Your emotional masochism. Do remember, I spent many years on the bench. If anyone understands the criminal soul, it's me."

"Oh do enlighten me." The thief muttered sulkily.

"You're a textbook case of self-harm." He laughed.

Carmen rolled her eyes. "Oh really…"

"Only instead of injuring yourself physically," The judge continued. "You have more efficient… aim."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The master thief lied.

"You knew that betraying those detectives was going to be hell. You couldn't think of a single thing that would be crueler, to yourself or them. That's exactly why you did it."

Carmen's voice shuddered. "Why would I want to hurt myself?"

"Well…" He expounded. "I know what it's like to get tired of criminals walking free. My guess is… there's a thief that you can't stand to see escape any longer. And, since you can't arrest her, you've found another way to punish her."

Carmen shook her head. "No… that's not it."

Traitor merely grinned, macabre mirth, and moved his hand down the front of her shirt.

She bit her lip without moving or struggling. Ah yes, that stoicism again. So tricky to circumvent… traditionally.

"You've been a lot of trouble." He said, pulling out her golden jewelry. "Maybe I'll keep this, for the extra work."

"Fine." The thief said frozenly. "Take it."

He laughed and let go of the locket. "You've just made my point again."

"Since you're such an expert, Traitor," Carmen apprised him. "You'll have figured out I don't care if you shoot me. So kill me or don't kill me and get out."

"You don't want me to get out." He said plainly. "You hoped that I would double cross you. Furthermore, you imagined the recent sting of your treachery would kill any hint of friendly sympathy from your antagonistic friends. Leaving you to chose among the dungeon cells."

"If I wanted to be locked up," Carmen retorted. "There are easier options."

"But you didn't want to be captured by someone reasonable, beneficent, and humane." Traitor clarified. "You won't be able to stand so much as your reflection, until you can call it a victim. "

His hand moved. Carmen quivered.

"Given my own predilections you believed it was a crime with its own built in punishment, premeditated justice at its finest." Traitor speculated. "Except you've underestimated one thing."

As the rough hands spun her around Carmen gasped.

"You forgot Carmen, that a sadist will choose the option that causes the most pain. So I won't heal you by assaulting you. I'm going to leave you to scream out your own tangled contradictions." He dropped the gun soundlessly to the fine imported carpet.

"I am not… what you claim."

"Guilty." He announced, only lacking a gavel for the full effect.

"You would accuse anyone." Carmen derided. "Human nature is an… illogical thing."

"But we are not talking about just anyone. Are we, Carmen?"

She didn't answer, but he felt drops of liquid hit his arm.

He pushed her away and mockingly met her red eyes. "Oh look. She cries."

Carmen didn't deign to reply.

"Fine then, Carmen." Traitor said, but turned over his shoulder for one last parting question. "But if my verdict is so erroneous, answer this. You gained nothing by betraying those detectives. So, if you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?"

He was already out of the room by the time she answered. "I… I don't know."


End file.
